


you looked so good in green

by cshmr



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I just want them to be happy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24705058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cshmr/pseuds/cshmr
Summary: We noticed Owen’s hands shaking. We noticed the fear in his voice.What if Curt had too?A retelling of the staircase scene because I (like everybody else) am still not over it at all.
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Comments: 20
Kudos: 142





	you looked so good in green

**Author's Note:**

> hey! the title of this fic comes from the song green by cavetown which gives me curtwen ~feels~ so i decided to use it as the title

Curt stared up at the once-familiar man above him, desperately searching for a trace of the person he had once known. Owen looked a lot thinner than before. His face was littered with bruises and cuts, as well as some scars that hadn't been there four years ago. There used to only be one big one on his face, a long, jagged line above his left eyebrow, but Curt was able to count at least five easily from where he was standing a few feet below. He knew the old Owen had always felt awful about his scar even though he didn't like to admit it. He didn't really like to admit any weaknesses; it had been a few years into their partnership when he finally started to open up to Curt about anything. What the new Owen thought about his scars, he had no clue.

His gun felt heavy in his hand, heavier than it ever had before. He eyed Owen’s to make sure it was still lying on the floor after he had hit it out of his hands. It was. Curt stepped up a couple of steps slowly, his arm still outstretched. Owen’s expression didn't change. Another wave of uneasiness washed over Curt upon seeing his old partner’s face so empty. He searched it desperately, still looking for a sign that he could be saved. Finding nothing, he raised his gun up to Owen’s head, looking away.

“What are you doing?” Owen asked, much quieter than when he was yelling a few moments before. He _sounded_ calm, Curt noticed, but something seemed off. Owen knew what was happening, he knew he was going to be shot. _He knew._ But he had asked what Curt was doing anyway. Curt could barely bring himself to look back at him, but when he did, the first things he noticed were Owen’s eyes. Their normal light brown seemed dulled, and he was staring straight at Curt. “Just do it, Mega.” His voice was barely a whisper, and if Curt hadn’t been standing close to him he probably would have missed it.

Owen closed his eyes, turning his head to the floor. Curt’s arm was shaking, and he had to put both hands on his gun in a vain attempt to hide it. Not that it mattered if he showed his nerves - Owen wasn't looking at him and he’d be dead soon anyway. He fiddled nervously with the safety on his gun. _Cock. Aim. Fire._ That was all he needed to do, then he could continue with his life. Mourning the old Owen, helping Tatiana with her family, maybe even dating again. But he couldn't go back to his old life without first trying for a new one. 

A new one with the old Owen still in it.

Curt hesitated, the gun in his hands and the barrel now pointing at Owen’s chest. He had killed hundreds of people before with no problem, many of them better people than Owen, and yet he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. Not yet.

“Look at me, Owen.”

“I’d rather not. Just kill me.”

Curt moved the barrel of the gun up to rest on Owen’s forehead. “I need to ask you something first.” Curt wasn't sure if he was lying to himself. On one hand, he did have a million questions he wanted answers to. On the other, he knew he was just delaying the inevitable. But Owen sighed and opened his eyes, still not lifting his head. Even with his head ducked down, however, Curt immediately noticed that his eyes were red, and tears were starting to well up in them.

Shit. Owen _never_ cried.

Curt had only ever seen him cry twice. The first time was when a mission had gone badly and a child ended up dead. The second was when he got the phone call telling him his mother had died. Both times he cried himself to sleep: the first time, with Curt watching awkwardly from his bed on the other side of the hotel room but not daring to say anything, the second time with Curt’s arms wrapped around him. But this time, Owen’s tears were Curt’s own fault. He lowered his gun and took a step back as Owen sank down to sit on the step.

“W-why-” Curt began. Why what? _Why do you hate me so much, why did you try and kill me, why did you think I didn't want to come back for you?_ Owen glanced up at him for a second, his eyes full of… well, something. Curt wasn't sure if it was fear, anger, or betrayal. Probably a mix of the three. He recognized the look from somewhere, but it took him a few seconds to connect the dots. It was exactly how the Deadliest Man had looked at him that night in the hotel room. _So maybe not fear, but definitely the other two_ , Curt thought. That night had been a difficult one for him: dealing with Richard Big, a betrayal, a group of singing Nazis, being tortured, then having another one of his goddamn hallucinations before he and Tati had escaped. His tongue ran over the gap in his mouth that served as his constant reminder of what the Deadli- no, of what _Owen_ had done. He suddenly realized what he wanted to ask.

“You’ve had so many opportunities to kill me, so why haven't you?”

“I’d rather not answer that one, love,” Owen replied, then grimaced. Curt knew why - Owen definitely hadn't meant to use his pet name. “Didn't mean it, force of habit,” he mumbled, confirming Curt’s suspicions. In spite of himself, Curt still liked hearing the word coming from Owen. He cursed at himself under his breath. _You can’t fall for his traps again._ Owen buried his head in his hands.

“Well, _love_ ,” Curt replied, making sure to stress Owen’s mistake, “you don't have much of a choice. If you answer, I’ll be merciful and do it quickly. If not…” He trailed off, suddenly horrified at what he was saying. He was threatening the man he used to love - no, the man he still loved - with a slow, torturous death as if it were any other normal mission.

Owen said nothing for a few seconds and Curt watched as he fiddled with his hair, obviously weighing his options. Curt tried not to think about how soft his hair was and how nice it would be to run his fingers through it again. He failed.

Curt looked at the gun in his hand, then back at the man sitting on the stairs. A tear started to roll down Owen’s cheek and he quickly brushed it away. Curt knew he shouldn't care, that the man was a traitor, but he still felt a pain in his chest. He suddenly realized that he wouldn't be able to torture Owen. He had no clue how Owen had managed to torture him before, and he hoped for both of their sakes that he would answer the question.

After what seemed like an eternity, Owen nodded his head and looked up. “I’ll tell you, but you won’t believe me.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I still love you.”

Curt would have laughed if he wasn't already feeling so broken. “No, you don't. _I_ still love _you_ , but there's no way in hell you can convince me that you love me. Honestly, I don't know if you ever did!” His voice rose as he spoke and Owen’s hands shot up in surrender. Curt looked at him, confused, before he noticed that he was using his gun to gesture angrily at him. He quickly lowered his arm, the gun pointing to Owen’s legs instead of his head.

“No, no, no. Maybe you _used_ to love me, but now you're going to kill me again.” He chuckled to himself - no, _at_ himself, Curt realized. His voice started to rise again as he continued to speak. “Doesn't seem much like love to me, Mega.” 

The way Owen spat his name stung, but he had no time to dwell on it. “Me? You're the one who faked their death, who tortured me, who… who was about to shoot me!”

“And yet look at who’s about to die now! Who’s got the gun? I was never able to kill you any of those times no matter whether or not I wanted to because, in spite of myself, I still love you. I wasn't lying when I said I hate you. But I could never hate you fully.” He sighed. “And now that part of me that refuses to hate you has led me to my death. So just do it quickly.” He once again seemed resigned to his fate, but instead of closing his eyes like he had done before, he stared into Curt’s, challenging him.

Curt shook his head. “No. I still don’t understand. Explain yourself properly.”

“Bloody hell, can’t you just let me die?”

“No! You betrayed me! You let me think you were dead for four fucking years, Owen! I want an explanation!” Curt quickly realized he was screaming. He took a deep breath, calming himself, and when he continued, his voice was a lot quieter. “Please?”

Owen groaned. “Fine. But put the gun down.” Curt opened his mouth to protest. “I didn’t say away, did I? Just don’t want the damn thing pointed at my head.” Curt lowered it, looking in any direction but Owen’s. “God, you still can’t listen,” Owen mumbled to himself.

“I guess the whole thing started when you left me for dead. By the way, thank you again for that. Do you know how long I waited for you to come back?” Curt shook his head, already dreading the answer. He looked back at Owen’s face and saw no signs that suggested that he had just been crying. All he saw was anger. This was more familiar than the tears he had seen a minute ago, but far more frightening - someone always ended up injured when Owen had that look in his eyes. “Two days. I laid on the floor and waited for you for two fucking days. Then I realized you were never coming back, and I just accepted that I was going to die there. And I nearly did, until Chimera saved me.”

“Wait, they did what?”

“They _saved_ me, unlike you. Took me back to their facility, managed to heal me even though I was on the brink of death, then trained me as one of their staff. And I figured something out while I was there. I figured out why you left me.

“You see, there were quite a few gay men there. And most of them had been rescued from situations similar to mine: accidentally” - he mimed air quotes as he said that word - “injured by their partners then left to die.” He stopped talking and looked expectantly at Curt, as if waiting for him to understand the punchline to a joke.

“I… I don’t-”

“Jesus, you’re either really thick or a good fucking actor. I know that they sent you to seduce me, okay? They heard a rumor about me, I suppose, so they sent you to find evidence of my “sexual perversion”. And when you found it, they told you to make sure I had a little accident.” He rose to his feet quickly. “I know you’re not really gay, I know you were only pretending, and yet part of me still loves you!” he yelled. “And I don’t even fucking know why! So there, that’s why I wasn’t able to kill you. Because I’m weak! Now finish the fucking job, Mega.”

Curt stared at him for a few seconds. Owen’s face was red and his fists clenched. He looked like he definitely would have tried to fight Curt if Curt didn't have a gun. Owen stared at him expectantly, obviously waiting for a reply or a bullet through his brain. Curt chose the former.

“I have two things to say. Firstly, I _did_ love you. I mourned you for years. I felt so guilty, so awful. I thought I had killed the person I cared about most in the world. I didn't talk to anyone, didn't even _consider_ dating anyone else. I just drank myself into depression. Hell, I had fucking hallucinations of you almost every day. I still do. And if you need further proof that I’m gay, I can call Tatiana and you can ask her. Because she’s the first person I ever talked to about you and she figured out that we were together.”

“Fucking hell, Mega, you told _her_ about-”

“She doesn't care!” he yelled. “And that’s not the point. The point is that I did love you, okay? And I need you to know that.”

“Wow, that’s nice to know! How comforting, knowing that I’m not going to get shot by some homophobic git, but by one of the people I cared about most in my life!” Owen replied sarcastically. “I still don’t believe that you ever loved me.”

“Shut up!” Curt yelled, and Owen closed his mouth - he had obviously been about to say something more. Curt could feel his eyes well up with tears and he tried to blink them away before Owen could see. He attempted in vain to gather his thoughts before he spoke again, but he just felt so… empty. The only person he’d ever loved now hated him. He had never felt so alone in his life, even though he knew Tati and Barb were both out fighting for him. All he had wanted for four long years was Owen back, and now he was. But he _wasn't_ back, not really. He had been twisted and manipulated in those long years Curt had spent grieving, and now he was broken and unrecognizable. Feeling tears start to run down his cheek, he quickly buried his head in his hands. He only gave himself a few seconds before he wiped them away.

The old Owen would have taken Curt into his arms and wiped them away himself, reassuring him that everything would be okay. The new Owen simply stared.

Curt managed to pull himself together. “The second thing I wanted to say,” he said, his voice only shaking slightly, “is that I don't believe that you still love me.”

Owen paused. He stared off into the distance, almost as if in a dream. Curt waited for his response, but was surprised when he decided to change the topic completely. “Do you remember the bracelets?” he asked, less harshly than before.

Curt nodded. How could he forget? The two of them had wanted to get some sort of jewelry they could wear together. Kind of like wedding rings, they had said, but Owen said rings would be too risky. So they decided on getting matching bracelets - simple green ones made out of braided leather. The green was Owen’s idea.  
_  
“We want them to mean something, right, darling?” Curt nodded in reply. “Well, it might sound tacky, but I’ve thought of something inconspicuous that we could do.”_

_“Great, cause I haven't.”_

_“You see, my name has a few different meanings, but I was named after my Irish grandfather. And the Irish version of my name means “yew tree”, so we could get them in green instead?” Owen paused, waiting for a reaction. Curt didn't reply. “I’m sorry, it was a stupid idea, we can just get the brown, I-”_

_“Babe, you are a genius.” Owen’s face lit up._

_“You really think so?”_

_“Yeah! But what about my name? Wouldn't it make more sense if we used them both?”_

_Owen laughed. “Love, your name means courteous. What color would that be?”_

_“Good point.” He quickly glanced out the window, and, when he was satisfied that no one was passing by, he gave Owen a quick kiss. “I love you, you sexy genius.”_

_“I love you too.”  
_  
Curt smiled to himself for a second as he remembered that day. It was one of the best of his life. But then he was drawn back to the present with a jolt when he felt Owen’s eyes on him. When he tried to meet his gaze, though, Owen quickly looked away. Curt was suddenly aware of the bracelet on his wrist, digging into his arm. It had been slightly on the tight side when they got it, but it was still comfortable to wear. After four years of no work and more alcohol than anyone should drink in a lifetime, however, it had started to feel noticeably more snug. He had never wanted to take it off, though.

Before he was fully aware of what he was doing, Curt was reaching for the simple clasp with his left hand, the right still holding the gun. He quickly undid the bracelet and slipped it off his wrist.

“Yes. I remember them.” Owen’s head turned back to face him. His expression shifted when he saw the bracelet in Curt’s hand - why he cared, Curt had no idea. “I- I have no use for mine anymore. I know you probably took yours off years ago. Anyway, stop changing the subject. Answer me.”

He didn't reply. Curt watched curiously as Owen stared at the bracelet dangling from his fist. He was about to start talking again when he noticed Owen rolling up his sleeve. Even from where he was standing a few feet away, Curt could clearly see the thin green band on his wrist. It looked a lot more tattered than his, and there were a few dark stains that were probably blood, but it was definitely the same bracelet that they had bought together, all those years ago.

“I could never bring myself to take it off,” he admitted quietly as he sat back down on the step. “No matter how much I hate you, I don’t know if I ever could.” He grimaced. “God, I sound pathetic.”  
_  
Maybe there’s hope. Maybe the old Owen is still in there.  
_  
“Can I- um, can I sit next to you?”

“I still hate you, you know.”

Curt nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

Owen shrugged in response to his question. Curt climbed a few stairs and sat down next to him, making sure to sit on the opposite end of the step. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes. Curt’s gun was still in his hands, and Owen kept glancing at it occasionally. Fingering the bracelet, Curt decided to break the silence.

“Do you remember the day we got them?”

Owen snorted. “Don’t try and get all sentimental with me. You obviously don't care about the bracelets all that much, considering that you took yours off.”

Curt quickly put it back on his wrist. “There. It’s back on. Now can we talk?”

“It doesn't mean anything, you just put it on to shut me up. But why do you want to talk? I gave you your answers. Just sho-”

“I don’t want to kill you!” Curt yelled, interrupting him. Owen turned his head to look at him, clearly surprised. “I don’t want to,” he repeated, calmer. 

“Why not?”

Curt shrugged. “I want to apologize.”

“Good.”

“If you're going to be a dick I won’t.” Owen didn't reply. “All right. Well, I'm truly sorry, Owen. All of this is my fault. I was careless and stupid and it nearly got you killed.” Curt took a deep breath and looked up. Through a hole in the roof he could see the night sky, full of stars. He started to fiddle with the zipper on his jacket, tugging it up and down. “I didn't go back because I was scared. I was scared of seeing you dead, it was… the thought of you dying was the worst thing in the world to me. And that was wrong, I should've tried to help. And I’m sorry for that too.

“And, also, I’m sorry that Chimera got you. They… they've changed you, Owe. I don't know what they did to you, but I’m sorry that I left you there. Oh god, and I’m sorry that you thought I hated you.”

“That one’s not your fault.”

“I know, I know, but I still feel bad about it.” Curt paused for a second to gather his thoughts, planning on continuing, but fell silent when he heard Owen sniff. He shifted his attention away from the hole in the roof and back to Owen, and he saw that the other man was crying. Not like he was before, trying to hide it, but openly. His tears started to fall faster, and he buried his head in his hands. Curt watched him weep, unsure of what to do. His gut told him to keep his distance and be wary, but all he wanted to do was hold Owen and never let go. He settled for tossing his gun a few feet away from him to show Owen that he meant no harm, then sliding a bit closer to him and patting his back awkwardly. He had expected Owen to pull away from him but when he didn't, Curt felt slightly better. He waited a few minutes until Owen seemed to have calmed down. “You okay?”

Owen shook his head. “Can- can I ask you some questions now?”

“I’m not done apologizing.”

“Don’t care,” he mumbled. Obviously feeling better, he lifted his head and locked eyes with Curt. “First one is-” he sniffed “-d’you have a tissue I could use please?”

“I think so.” He felt around in his back pocket and found one. Owen took it quickly and blew his nose.

“Thank you. Crap, I’m a mess.”

Curt chuckled. “We both are.”

“Yeah. Okay, so, second question. Why did you put the bracelet back on just now?”

“I just… taking it off felt wrong. It’s kind of like what you said, I guess. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop loving you, really. I didn’t just put it back on to shut you up, if that's what you’re thinking. If I couldn't get over you in four years, how would I be able to in a few hours?”

Curt waited anxiously. He realized his hand was still resting on Owen’s back so he quickly pulled it off. The few moments before Owen spoke felt like centuries.

“That was a bit cheesy, wasn't it?” he replied with a small smile - not a mean one, Curt noticed. He seemed slightly amused, if anything. Curt chuckled and the atmosphere in the room suddenly seemed slightly less tense. “I believe you, though.”

“What, you believe that that’s why I put the bracelet back on or that I still love you?”

“Both.”

Curt breathed a sigh of relief. _He believes you. The old Owen is still in there._ “Thanks.”

“I’ve said stranger things tonight and you’ve believed me.” Curt nodded in agreement. “I have one more question, if that’s okay?”

“Sure.”

“What did you mean when you said that Chimera had changed me?” he asked. He was facing straight ahead, probably deliberately to avoid looking Curt in the eye.

Curt thought for a few moments. He thought of the man he had known. The arrogant man, who enjoyed being the best but was always proud of Curt when he had beaten him (even though he didn't always show it). The funny, charming man, who always seemed ready with a quip or a flirty reply. The kind man, who always tried to help others even if it hindered himself, the side that for some reason, he didn't let many people see. Wanting to help people was the reason he started spying in the first place, Curt remembered. He was one of the only people who ever got to see Owen’s softer side. The softer side that he couldn’t see at all anymore. 

“I mean, before the accident, I don’t think you would have believed anyone if they had tried to tell you that I was some homophobic dickhead who was only pretending to love you. And it doesn't really surprise me that you want revenge, you were always a bit like that, but I’ve never seen you so... violent. I don’t know what happened with Chimera, Owen, but they did _something_ to you. And I don't want to overstep or anything, and please don't get mad, but-” he took a deep breath “- I think they might have brainwashed you or something. Or manipulated you, I don't know, but you just don't seem like... you.”

Curt paused again, waiting to see if Owen would lash out at him. Thankfully, he didn't, and mumbled something instead.

“Huh?”

Owen turned to face Curt. For the first time that evening, his stare didn't seem angry. It seemed more... sad? Whatever it was, it was certainly better than the anger from before. “They're... they're not good people. They...” Owen started to trail off.

Curt put on a smile that he hoped was reassuring. “You know you don't have to tell me. I know I’m not exactly your favorite person right now.”  
_  
Please, **please** tell me.  
_  
“Who else do I have to tell? Might as well tell you.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I am, Curt. I should probably tell someone.”

Curt hadn't known how much he had missed hearing Owen say his name until that second. He hadn't spat it out like he had earlier in the day, and he hadn’t used his last name like he had been doing since Curt had pointed a gun at him. He hadn't said it in a positive way, not exactly. But he had said his name.  
_  
Owen’s still there. They didn't break all of him.  
_  
He noticed Owen's hands shake. Neither of the two Owens, not the old nor new one, let themselves show fear. Curt knew how scared Owen must be - even a small thing like that meant a lot for him. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he decided to offer his hand to Owen. He held out his right one to him. That was how they had always done it - Curt’s right hand in Owen’s left - so that their bracelets would touch. They hadn’t done it on purpose, it just happened that Owen always ended up on his right side, but by the time they realized, they thought it was a cute little tradition, so it stuck. Owen looked at his hand for a few seconds before taking it. Owen’s hand was slightly clammy, but otherwise exactly the same as Curt remembered it - a lot bigger than his and rougher too, but neither in a bad way. He shuffled slightly closer to Owen -it felt strange to hold his hand while sitting far apart. Now that he was finally touching Owen again, and not in an aggressive way, all he wanted was to embrace him, but he knew Owen wouldn't want the same. So he sat and waited for him to continue talking.

Owen took a few minutes to gather his thoughts. Curt said nothing in those few minutes, just squeezed his hand a couple of times. He always used to do that before they went into missions together. Three times, meaning _I love you_ , and Owen would reply with four. _I love you too_. The uncomfortable metal staircase was a very different setting, however. Curt didn't dare squeeze more than once in a row.

“I was very lonely there,” Owen began. “Obviously I spoke to _some_ people but I didn't have any friends. I guess that's how they get to you. Everything’s worse when you’re alone.

“I... They might have manipulated me. I don't really know. They told me a lot of stuff though. Don't know how much of it was true. I'm guessing most of it wasn't.” He paused, having reached the end of one of his trains of thought.

“I mean, the whole “I’m not really gay and I killed you on purpose” thing isn't true, but is there anything else I can help with? For the record, if they said anything else about me hating you, that’s a lie.”

“Nothing else about you, really. Mostly stuff about MI6. But thank you.” Owen smiled but it didn't reach his eyes.

“Is... is that all they did?”

Owen shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it again, obviously at a loss for words. Curt raised an eyebrow questioningly, but before he had a chance to say something, Owen’s hand moved up to his face and shakily pointed at one of the new scars there.

Curt’s blood boiled in his veins. He grabbed both of Owen’s hands and clenched them tightly in his. “They-? Those _fuckers_! I’m going to find them, and I’m going to kill them. I’m going to murder every last person working for Chimera! I-”

“Calm down, Curt. It was just an intimidation tactic. It meant I knew to follow their orders. One of which was to take over the role of the DMA.” Owen said it calmly, as though his abuse at the hands of Chimera wasn’t a big deal.

“Wait, so, the Deadliest Man-”

“He was played by a bunch of different people, yeah. Whenever one man got killed, they'd send out another one. Most of the 1147 kills weren’t mine obviously, and I tried only to kill criminals. Oh, and some Nazis too. I’m sorry about your friend, by the way, I assumed they would be wearing a vest, I-”

“Did Chimera say you had to kill them?”

“I was told I had to kill all three of you. And anyone helping you, so I guess that scientist - Barb, right? - as well.” Owen paused. His shoulders were tense and his breathing shallow. “Could you- this’ll sound so pathetic but can you put your hand on my back again or something? Because I’ve never talked or really even _thought_ much about this before and you know I’m not good at emotions. Obviously, you don't have to but-” Owen stopped as Curt embraced him, wrapping both his arms around him. He seemed tense and stiff at first, but quickly leaned into Curt, resting his head lightly on his shoulder. Owen smelled like cigarettes and sweat, but Curt could also recognize his aftershave, the same one he used to use four years ago. Oh, and of course he always smelled slightly like coffee, even though he always claimed to loathe the stuff.  
_  
He’s still there. He’s **here.**  
_  
“You don’t need to keep going if you don't want to.”

“No, it’s fine. I should. So, they told me I had to torture you for information, then once I had done that I was supposed to...”

“Kill me?”

Owen nodded. “And they told me not to reveal myself to you or to even mention Chimera. They said if I did, I might as well let you kill me because if you didn't, they would.”

“So why did you?”

“I wanted to see your reaction. I figured one of the two of us would end up dead anyway so I didn't really have any reason not to. And, you know, I wanted to... hurt you, I guess.” He shifted uncomfortably on the stair, wringing his hands in his lap. “Okay, so now that I said that last bit, it’s my turn to apologize. So. I’m sorry. I never-”

“I know. I forgive you.” Curt wasn't going to let Owen take the blame for what Chimera had forced him to do. The man was clearly still suffering because of them, he shouldn’t be apologizing for any of it. “It’s not your fault. They threatened to kill you, Owen. I can’t blame you for that.”

“I could’ve done something! I could have let them kill me instead of doing all the horrible things they wanted me to do. It’s all my fau-”

“No, it isn't.”

“Okay, if I can’t apologize for the things Chimera made me do, then I’m going to apologize for hurting you and not trusting you. That wasn't them, it was me and-”

“I know what you're going to say. I forgive you.”

“Don't interrupt, love.” Owen paused for a second and Curt knew why. _He didn't mean to say it, it’s like he said earlier, it’s just force of habit._ But when he brushed past it quickly and continued talking, Curt knew he meant it. “You said a lot, I need to as well.”

“No, you don't. I wanted to say a lot.”

“And so do I.”

“Owen, you hate apologizing.”

“So do you. And I let you apologize because I’m a selfish prick and I felt sorry for myself and hated you. Which I still need to apologize for. So, I’m so-”

“Stop it! Like I said, I know and I forgive you.”

Owen didn't reply for a while. When he finally did, his voice was low and shaky. “Why?”

Curt paused. Not to think of his answer; he already knew it. No, he paused so he could work up the courage to say it. He shifted on the stair slightly so that Owen lifted his head and the two were looking directly at each other, their faces only a few inches apart.

“Because I want to. Because I love you.”

There was a pause. It felt long to Curt, far too long. He tried to look at Owen’s face for a reaction, but he still saw fear in his eyes. Confused, Curt was about to apologize quickly and pull away when he felt a pair of arms wrap around him as well.

“I love you too. I never stopped.” Owens’ voice was barely a whisper, but he heard it easily.

“You don’t need to say that just because I did, you know. It’s fine if you’re not sure.”

“I’m positive. I love you, Curt Mega.”

Owen’s eyes shone, the brown that had been so dull a few moments ago lighting up to the warm shade of cinnamon Curt knew.

“I love you too, Owen Carvour.”

And the two of them moved closer, and back to the familiar position they once knew, Curt with his head on Owen’s chest and both with their arms around the other. They sat together and looked at the stars through the small hole in the roof, and for a few minutes, time stood still.

It felt good to be with Owen again. Physical affection was something Curt hadn't gotten a lot of since the accident, and the fact that it was Owen only made it even better. It almost felt like a dream, too good to be true. Curt took one hand off Owen’s waist and reached out to touch his face, sure it would disappear under his touch and he would wake up alone. Instead, his fingers met Owen’s jaw, still slightly crooked, running along one of the scars there. He chuckled to himself, then slowly moved his hand to run it through Owen’s hair. Still as soft as it had been before. He saw Owen smile - _fuck, his smile is so cute_ \- and he stroked Curt’s face as well, before resting his head on top of Curt’s. Curt buried his head into Owen’s chest.

“I still need to apologize, dear. And don't try and stop me this time, okay?” Owen said softly. Curt didn't want to lift his head from Owen’s chest so he didn't respond, just nodded his head vaguely. “Good. Okay, the first thing I’m sorry for is shooting you.”

“‘S fine,” Curt mumbled, raising his head. “I had a vest on, you didn't get me that badly.”

“You know, I never thought I’d live to see the day when the famous Curt Mega finally decided to wear a bulletproof vest.”

“Cynthia terrifies me. She shot me in her office and I haven't taken the vest off since.”

Owen laughed. “That explains that, I guess.” He looked down at Curt, his smile suddenly slipping off his face. “I feel terrible about it anyway.”

Curt shook his head, sitting up slightly so he could look at Owen properly. “No. You're not allowed to apologize for _anything_ Chimera made you do. Okay? I don't blame you for that at all.”

“Even if part of me _wanted_ to shoot you?” Owen asked, his voice suddenly sounding very small.

“Yes. You felt... like that because of what they told you and did to you. Not your fault. Which means, before you try and apologize for wanting to hurt me, you can't do that either. That was their fault too.”

Owen pulled Curt closer to him, squeezing him tightly. “Thank you.”

“You would have done the same for me. Anyway, I just got you back. I’d do anything for you, doll.”

One of Owen’s hands fell from Curt’s back and onto the step behind him to prop them both up. “Anything?” he asked, his voice suddenly sounding tense.

“Yeah... are you okay, Owe?” Curt replied, pulling away from him to be able to look in his eyes. The fear was back in them, the cinnamon once more faded to a dull brown. Curt could see Owen’s hand inching towards his gun, which lay forgotten on the cold floor. Curt lept up and ran down a few stairs. He could only watch, frozen, as Owen picked it up. Curt reached for his own gun, but then he remembered chucking it away to show Owen that he didn't want to hurt him. He could see it a few feet behind Owen, still lying where he had thrown it. He looked around for anything he could use - a pipe, a stick, a plank of wood, maybe - and found nothing. He backed up, not wanting to look away, until he felt the cool metal of the railing behind him.  
_  
Good job, Curt. You listened again, he lied again, and now he’s going to kill you.  
_  
“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Curt, don't make this harder than it needs to be. Please.” His voice sounded strangely calm, almost artificial.

“No, we spent all that time talking, and now you’re going to kill me? How much of what you said was a lie to get me to trust you again?”

“None of it, if you could please just-”

“Bullshit! You saw I was going to shoot you, pretended to be sad, fed me a shit ton of lies and now you've got a gun and I don’t! Congratulations, Owen. You won, okay?”

“Only one of us can leave here tonight, Curt. You knew as soon as we stepped foot in here that only one of us was going to make it out.” Curt looked away as Owen started to walk closer to him. He felt something brush against his chest - the gun, he realized. He quickly looked back at Owen, determined not to give him the satisfaction of watching his cowardice. “So take the shot.” Curt looked down, confused, until he saw that the gun’s barrel wasn't pointing towards his chest.

It was pointing towards Owen’s.

And suddenly the fear he remembered seeing in Owen’s eyes made sense.

“What? No. No way, Owen. I just got you back. I can't lose you again.”

“If both of us leave here, we’ll both be killed. And if I kill you, Chimera will kill me anyway for revealing myself to you. Either way, I end up dead. You might as well live. And who knows, maybe you’ll be able to get rid of Chimera for me.” He smiled weakly and pressed the gun into Curt’s hands. Instinctively, Curt took it.

“Babe, no. I’m not going to do this.”

“It’s fine. I want you to.”

“If you want me to do it for you, I’m going to be selfish. I don’t want to do it so I’m not going to.”

“Curt, think of all the people like me, like us, who Chimera is hurting right now. If you kill me and leave now, you have a chance at helping them. I’ve got all of the compound locations that I know of written down here-” he pulled a piece of paper out of one of his jacket pockets and handed it to Curt “-so you can destroy them.”

“Owen, you’re being overdramatic. We can both leave, together.” Curt’s panic was evident, his voice rising steadily. “We- we can find a safe house and go off the grid or something, there’s got to be another way-”

“There isn’t. Anyway, think of the praise you would get if you unmasked and killed the Deadliest Man Alive! It would help you get that promotion you always wanted.”

“But I _wouldn't_ be killing the Deadliest Man. He’s a vicious madman. I’d be killing you.”

Owen shrugged. “What’s the difference?”

Curt shook his head. He didn't have time to reply to Owen, he had to do something fast. “No. I’m not going to do this.” He ran past Owen and up the stairs to pick up his gun - god knows what Owen might try if he could get it. He ran down a nearby corridor until he found a room with a window, the glass smashed in several places. Hearing Owen’s footsteps echoing on the floor as he tried to catch up, he quickly threw the two guns out the window before Owen could stop him.

Curt turned around as he entered. “There. The guns are gone. No one else needs to die today. Okay?”

“No. Not okay. They're going to find us, Curt, and they're going to kill us themselves and I can’t let them hurt you-”

“Woah. Slow down. Everything’s going to be okay. Here, let’s go sit back down.” He took Owen by the hand and led him out of the dingy hallway and back to the staircase. The main room of the warehouse was only a bit brighter, but it was still an improvement. Curt sat back down and Owen slumped beside him, still rambling.

Curt had to repeat his name several times before he stopped and he was able to speak himself. “We’re going to be fine, honey. Okay? All we need to do is wait for Tatiana to call me. She said she’d call once she and Barb found the compound and destroyed it. When she calls we can explain then we’ll go off the grid, find a safe house somewhere.”

“That’s what you said earlier. But it won’t work.”

“No, Owen, it’ll work, okay? And until they call we can sit and talk, try and take your mind off of... everything?”

“Sure.”

“Good, ‘cause you’re the sensible one in this duo, Cavour. I need you.” Owen leaned into him as he spoke, and Curt found himself holding him again.

“I’m not sensible,” Owen replied, a note of disgust in his voice as if “sensible” was the worst thing Curt could have called him.

“I should’ve said _more_ sensible. But honestly, neither of us are sensible. You were being such a drama queen! Why didn’t you just tell me to shoot you instead of the whole “only one of us can leave tonight” thing?”

“Like I said earlier. I like being overdramatic, so I figured I’d have some fun before... before you killed me.”

His words hung uneasily in the air. 

“Owen, did you... did you seriously think I was going to kill you?” Curt asked, his voice barely a whisper. 

“I... maybe. I honestly wasn't sure.”

“Love, I need you to know that I’ll never do _anything_ to harm you. I can’t risk losing you again. Okay? I love you.”

Owen looked up and nodded. “I love you too, baby.” He smirked as he saw Curt’s face. “You steal my word, I steal yours. Have I ever told you how cute you look when you’re embarrassed?”

“I am not cute. I am handsome.”

“Nope. You've got a big dumb grin on your face and you're blushing. You’re so tiny and adorable.”

“I will push you away, Cavour.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

He was right, he wouldn't. Distracting Owen seemed to be working, as he knew it would, but Curt still had one more thing he wanted to ask. Something Owen had said just wasn't sitting right with him, and they had time to spare, after all.

“Owe?” 

“Mm?”

“I- earlier, I said that if I killed you, I wouldn't be killing a… I think I said a vicious madman?” Owen hummed in confirmation. “But then you said that I would be.”

Owen sighed and raked a hand through his hair. Curt was reminded of when he had done so earlier and he had wanted to touch it but couldn't. Now that he could, he slapped Owen’s hand away from it and started to braid a few of the longer strands together. Usually, Owen would complain about Curt ruining his “naturally perfect hair”, but Curt knew he secretly liked it. 

“I did say that, yes.”

“Do you really think that?”

“I’m not a good person,” he said simply. “I've hurt so many people, I- I’ve hurt _you_ , Curt. And just because I was scared and selfish. You wouldn't have done it, you would've escaped or fought back or something. I just did what they told me to.”

“You were being abused and manipulated. I mean, you said yourself that even when Chimera was threatening to kill you if you messed things up for them, you tried to only kill criminals, right?” Owen nodded. “You did your best. That makes you a good person, okay?”

Owen shifted uncomfortably on the step. “We’ve been talking about me too much. Something must’ve happened to you that we can talk about instead. Don't you have any traumas we can focus on until they call?”

“Nope. I’m okay now. I’ve got you.” He reached out for Owen but he backed away, laughing. Curt had noticed how he had changed the subject but didn’t want to push him any further. After all, once the got out of there, they would have all the time in the world.

“Mega, that was the cheesiest, sappiest, _grossest thing_ you've ever said. I don't know why I put up with you.”

“‘Cause you love me, you said it yourself. No trying to deny it, Carvour.” Owen groaned in response but smiled anyway and leaned into Curt’s still-outstretched arms. They sat together for a few minutes, Curt fiddling with Owen’s hair again. Suddenly, a shrill beeping cut through the air and Owen quickly lept away from Curt and sat back down a few steps beneath him. As much as Owen had changed over the years, Curt could still easily recognize when he was panicking. Curt quickly found the source of the beeping - his watch, which was telling him that Tatiana was calling him and Barb.

Curt glanced over to where Owen was sitting and noticed him staring at the watch anxiously as if it was about to blow up. “Would it help if I didn't tell them straight away?” Owen nodded, and Curt gave him a thumbs-up as he swiped to answer the call.

“-compound gone?” Barb asked. She had obviously picked up straight away and started talking.

“Yes.”

“Wait, what?”

“I used the bomb to destroy the compound.”

“Good job.”

“Curt, what about you?” Barb asked. “Did you… did everything go to plan?”

“Not exactly…”

“What, are you hurt? Did he hurt you?”

“Calm down, Barb. I’m fine, he didn't hurt me. I didn't hurt him either, honestly.”

“What a shame. I would like to take that dickhead and-”

“So, Curt, what _did_ happen?” Barb asked, quickly cutting off Tatiana. Curt looked over to Owen, who seemed to have composed himself a bit in the few seconds he had been on the call. Owen moved back closer to him and nodded.

“Um, so neither of us killed the other. And we talked for a bit, w- _I_ can explain later-” he heard Tatiana start to mutter to herself “-but right now I need a safe house. As soon as possible.”

“Mega, if you really-”

“I did, okay? Like I said, we can explain later.”

“It will not work. You will both be killed.”

“That’s what I said,” Owen piped up from beside him. “I said he should just kill me and run.”

“I agree. Kill him and run.”

“Nice to talk to you too, love.”

“I… I agree with Tati,” Barb said. “I mean, how do you know we can trust him?”

Curt reached into his pocket, his fingers searching for a tatty piece of paper. He found it quickly and pulled it out. “There’s more. More compounds. Before he told me to kill him, he gave me a list of all the ones he knows about. Barb, are there similar compounds to the one we destroyed in these places?” He quickly read off a list of coordinates and heard the tapping of computer keys from Barb’s end. After a couple of minutes (in which none of the others dared to say anything), she came back to report her findings.

“Yes.” Curt breathed a sigh of relief and he could hear Owen do the same next to him. “All the islands have some sort of unregistered building on them as far as I can tell, and a couple of them look very similar to the one Tati destroyed.”

“Chimera is huge,” Owen replied. “That won't be all of them, but it’s a start.”

Barb seemed satisfied with this show of Owen’s loyalty, but Curt knew Tatiana wouldn't be. “Owen. Why did you betray them?” she asked. 

Feeling Owen stiffen next to him, Curt rushed in to answer. “Um, we can explain that lat-”

“They fed me lies. Lies about a lot of things, but mostly Curt. And I believed them, and so I wanted to hurt him.” Owen’s reply was smooth, almost too smooth, as though he had been practicing it in his head. He had obviously been anticipating the question.

Curt quickly took over again. “We all good? Like I said, we can tell you guys more later.” No response from either Tati or Barb “Good. So, a safe house? I don’t want to put my mom in too much danger.” The three of them quickly made a plan. Tatiana, who happened to be nearby, would pick them up from the warehouse while Barb secured a safe house. Owen stayed silent throughout their discussion.

As soon as Curt hung up (with Tatiana telling him multiple times to “be careful”), Owen turned to him. “This is a bad idea. It’s too dangerous.”

Curt took Owen’s hands in his. “No, this’ll work. And don't try and convince me to leave you or something. I’ve lost you once already, I won’t lose you again.”

“It’ll be hard. I… I get nightmares now. And panic attacks sometimes. And I’ve started smoking again, way more than I used to. You- you deserve someone whole, Curt. And I’ll never be whole again.”

Curt shook his head. “It’s not just you. I drink way too much. And I have hallucinations. And I get panic attacks too, every once in a while. I’m not whole either, and I honestly don’t know if either of us ever has been. And I know it’ll take a lot of work and time but I want to be yours again, someday. I don’t care if it takes years, I’ll wait.”

“Me too. I want that too,” Owen replied softly. His gaze didn't meet Curt’s.

“I know it’s hard but… we need to try.” Owen nodded.

Their heads jerked up in unison as they heard the coded knock that Tatiana and Curt had agreed on. Curt let go of Owen’s hands and they both stood up and walked down the stairs. The warehouse was eerily similar to the one they had been in four years ago - Curt suddenly wondered if Owen had led him there on purpose. Probably, he figured. He could ask later. As they passed the spot where Owen had fallen, the two automatically stopped. The floor was clean of blood ( _of course it is, it’s not the same warehouse_ ) but for Curt, the accident started to replay over and over until it felt real, and he was going to lose Owen again and-

Owen suddenly grabbed his hand. His grip was too tight and Curt knew it wasn't entirely for his benefit. But it was enough to ground him, to remind him that _Owen’s here, he’s not gone, he’s here_. He noticed Owen’s bracelet brushing against his skin. Feeling Owen staring at him, Curt was finally able to pull his gaze away from the floor to look back at him. His eyes were watching Curt with concern. Curt gazed into them, once again seeing the warm cinnamon he was used to, finally seeing something other than fear. He didn't say anything, just squeezed Owen’s hand three times.  
_  
I love you.  
_  
Four squeezes.  
__  
I love you too.  


**Author's Note:**

> p.s. shoutout to the saf discord, you guys rock


End file.
